This stress is a tide, sweeping over my body, consuming my lungs
Until I dream of cold metal and silver bullets, through and against my temples
Such a beautiful melody in the sound of escape, one shot is all it takes
A shot of ***** and a shot of metal
One used to numb my mind, the other will do so forever
The blood burns my throat, my reflection presses to let it all go
I down the bottle and its against the counter and broken in half with a slap
The soaking glass threatens my veins by slowly taunting my tearing skin
Enough, take the last shot, my demons scream
Muttered whispers ricochet against the tiled walls
As I apologize to my family and my friends while the ice dances beside my eye once more
And...
I am not glorifying suicide nor am I threatening to take my life, poetry just allows my escape to occur without the consequences of reality